Timmy's Story
by SilencedShout
Summary: When you open your eyes, everything is wrecked.


When you open your eyes, everything is wrecked. You think this is normal, considering your car was sitting upside-down in a ditch, bent around a tree. You can hear screaming and pained groans over the ringing in your ears, intensified by your throbbing headache. You can't seem to remember what happened, but you have a feeling the semi parked nearby with a collapsed bumper had something to do with it. You turn to the front of the car to see everything coated in blood, from the shattered windshield to your mother's face, turned to you in desperation.

"Timmy…Timmy, come here, please. And watch the glass," She cries, reaching out to you with her right arm. You nod and unbuckle your seatbelt, landing headfirst on the remains of the window nearest you. You hear a whine - your whine - as the headache intensifies, pounding on your skull like a drummer to a drum set. You slowly right yourself, then crawl into the front half of the car, into your mother's waiting arm. Her left arm dangles uselessly at her side, blood streaming from where it was bent backwards. She was trying to shield you from seeing your father, who was a mangled, horrible, dead mess.

"Thank God you aren't hurt," She whispers, repeatedly kissing your forehead. You didn't want to correct her, not when her eyes were dim and her breathing was ragged. She asks you to help her out of the car, fumbling with her seatbelt and wheezing when you try pulling her out by her waist. You two slowly make your way out of the car via her smashed window, only to realize a crowd had gathered, a chaotic mess of people scrambling to ask if you were okay or to take pictures and post online.

The daze you were in prevented you from logically responding, instead screaming for them to get away from you, and to mind their own business. Most of them listen, shouting to stay calm, when they weren't the ones who hadn't gotten to say goodbye to their dad before he died, and that help was on the way, when you and your mother knew that nobody would need help by the time they arrived. You move to stand up and wave them away, when you feel your mother tug on your arm, silently pleading to stay with her. You help her lay down in front of you, to ease the pain you could only imagine she was in. The look in her eyes was distant, as if her life was literally flashing before her.

"You are my sunshine," She begins singing, flashing you back to the days when you and your parents still lived with your grandparents, back before they hated everyone and moved to another part of the Dome. That happened when you were 6, about 2 years after you had first met Bridgette. Your mother still sang the song to you, even though you thought it was stupid because you were a "big kid" and it still made you cry.

"My only sunshine," She continues, tears welling up in her eyes. She told you once that you were going to have a little sister, but she never came and you never knew why. After that happened, you declared Bridgette your new little sister and that was the only time you ever saw your dad cry. They never let you go into that room after that, even though the baby's furniture had been removed and all that remained was a light blue carpet in a pastel-pink room.

"You make me happy, when skies are gray," Her voice cracks, reminding you of the days when she and you would play board games during storms, or would even run outside and splash around. Her laugh was echoing in your head. You told yourself you weren't going to cry again, but everyone knows that you're a big crybaby.

"You'll never know, dear…how much…I love…you…" Her voice was bubbling now, with blood dribbling out of the corner of her mouth and that glazed look taking over her eyes. You could hear the sirens roaring in the distance, and look towards them, pleading for them to hurry up. You feel a small tug on your shirt and turn back to your mother. She gestures for you to come closer. You do. She kisses you on the forehead, whispering, "I love you" until it fades out and the only way you can tell she's alive is the ragged spasms of her chest as she fights to breathe with drowning lungs.

"Please don't take…my sunshine…away…" You struggle to finish for her, your throat closing up and lower lip trembling as tears spill over your cheeks. She's fighting so hard, eyes wide as she reaches out, trying to grab at the air like it'll save her. You take her hand and pull it against your chest, holding it so tightly you pretend it's just your imagination telling you she's stopped struggling, and that her eyes were glazed over and cold. The ambulance is here now. They're here, and despite your warbled begging, they're here, and they're going to take your sunshine away.


End file.
